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The last rays of the descending Sun poured in through the cracks of the curtains, caressing their skin as they lay together in bed, basking in the afterglow of their lovemaking. The sweat was cooling on their skin, and their frantic breaths have evened out into slow, peaceful sighs. Geralt never wanted this moment to end, never wanted to leave their soft bed and the warm embrace of his lover.
His head rested on Jaskier’s thigh. He purred softly as Jaskier carded his fingers through his hair, idly playing with his tangled tresses. Geralt caressed Jaskier’s soft skin, running his palm over his delectable curves.
As Jaskier had grown out of his lanky teenage years, his body changed in ways that Geralt couldn’t get enough of. The simple passage of time, combined with the fact they had more money now and could eat better, softened Jaskier wonderfully. His bones, that used to jut out from under his skin were now well-covered by a soft layer of fat that made him look so much healthier and livelier. Geralt’s heart fluttered happily at the knowledge his companion was taken care of, that he never had to worry about starving ever again.
He traced a pink, ragged line over Jaskier’s hip with the tip of his finger, smiling when Jaskier shivered softly. Geralt knew his lover’s skin was especially sensitive at those places, where his body has grown the most over the years. Geralt adored those marks: they were the proof of Jaskier living well.
“That tickles,” Jaskier laughed softly, nudging Geralt in the side with his knee. Geralt ignored him, continuing his trip over the same line, up to Jaskier’s waist where more of them gathered, criss-crossing over his small rolls like the roots of a tree.
“You’re beautiful,” Geralt whispered. He gave Jaskier’s hip a small squeeze. “I love your body so much.”
“Are you trying to seduce me again?” Jaskier chuckled. His cheeks were adorably flushed as he peered down at Geralt from under his long lashes. “We’ve just finished this round.”
Geralt chuckled as he ran his thumb across Jaskier’s supple lower belly, following the pattern of his stretchmarks there.
“I’m just adoring you.”
“Now, that I can live with,” Jaskier smiled. He placed his own hand onto Geralt’s shoulder, rubbing gentle circles into the hard muscle. Geralt closed his eyes in bliss and leaned into the touch, letting Jaskier caress him the same way he was doing it to the bard.
“You’re beautiful, too,” Jaskier whispered, his own fingers dancing across the scar on Geralt’s shoulder. It was a fresh one, not fully healed, so his touch was gentle, barely more than a breeze. All the same, it made Geralt shiver pleasantly.
“If we’re talking bodies, then, my dearest, yours is the most amazing.”
Jaskier smoothed his palm over Geralt’s upper back, where Geralt’s nastiest scar has been edged into his skin. He collected that one after an encounter with a particularly aggressive griffin. The skin has healed, but the reminder of the attack was forever ingrained into his body. Geralt thought it was ugly, but Jaskier touched that particular scar with such awe, that he realized he may have to rethink that.
His own fingers never stopped caressing Jaskier: he mapped out every single line across his belly and waist, exploring the faint ones and the angry-looking, red ones as well, with the same gentleness.
Jaskier’s hand was now on Geralt’s chest, his fingers tracing the scratches he found there. If witchers had the ability to have increased heartbeats, Geralt was sure his own heart would have pounded like a hammer under Jaskier’s palm.
“You even love my scars?” Geralt asked, his skin breaking out into goosebumps as Jaskier touched a sensitive spot over his ribs. That was a tiny scar, but it had hurt like hell when Geralt had received it.
“They make you who you are,” Jaskier replied simply, “a hero. So many of these scars are from you protecting me. And the rest is from protecting people who wouldn’t even thank you. You’re my selfless, brave, strong witcher.”
“I love your scars, too,” Geralt said, unable to resist kissing one of Jaskier’s stretchmarks on his hip. Jaskier made a soft snorting sound above him.
“Those aren’t scars, those are just from my skin breaking when I got fat.”
“You’ve grown,” Geralt corrected him gently, “into the person that you are now. Someone who is delicate, and soft, but also strong and resilient. And maybe they are not exactly scars, but they are marks.
And they’re on your body, so I love them.”
Jaskier blinked quickly, his cheeks pinkening even more. A dreamy smile tugged on his lips as he gently laid his palm over that scar on Geralt’s side, as if protecting it.
“Well, they’re red stripes,” Jaskier concluded, “and you have red stripes on your skin, too. We match.”
“We match,” Geralt repeated softly. He nuzzled into the softness of Jaskier’s inner thigh, nosing along the army of stretchmarks he found there. “We’ve both grown in different ways.”
“They may be blemishes to some, right?” Jaskier laughed. His voice was a little choked-up. “But to us, they’re the most beautiful things. People are scared of your scars because they don’t know the truth behind them, and they sure as hell don’t know the man who carries them. With every single scar, you have only gotten stronger. And there is nothing repulsive about that.”
“And some people may mock you for these marks,” Geralt continued, twisting his head to look into Jaskier’s eyes, “but they don’t know how much you had to endure. They don’t know how your body has become a true home for your soul, at last.”
“Geralt,” Jaskier whispered, his eyes welling up with tears, “stop being a better poet than I am, or I’ll cry.”
Geralt only grinned in response. He kissed a pink line under Jaskier’s navel, just as Jaskier ran his fingers across a scar on his bicep one last time before they moved to be face to face with each other.
“I love matching with you,” Jaskier admitted with a wobbly smile, placing his hand at where Geralt’s has been just moments ago, touching his own body with the same care Geralt did. In return, Geralt has brought up a hand to touch his own scars, getting to know them with the same gentle curiosity Jaskier did.
He leaned in and kissed Jaskier deeply, sinking into his welcoming, sweet embrace.
The thing was, by loving the “flaws” on Jaskier’s body, he has started to learn to embrace and appreciate the ones on his own.
Besides, he matched with Jaskier- of course, he couldn’t hate a body like that.